


Take Me Home

by benluck



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Frank, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks, like a metric ton of fluff, lots of fluff, student!Frank, teacher!gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benluck/pseuds/benluck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank hates his teacher. Kinda. At least he's trying to convince himself of that. One flour fight and a panic attack later, Frank doesn't know where he stands. ON HIATUS/REWRITING</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Frank kinda hates his teacher, but whatever

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be my first fic, so just read and let me know what you think.  
> ~Al

He stands with a few of his colleagues, leaning against the wall and sipping steaming coffee. He laughs at some stupid teacher joke like he always does, letting his eyes crinkle at the corners like they always do. It isn't rare to see him like this; it almost seems like every time you see him he's laughing at something. Whether it be some dumb joke someone told or a reaction to something a student did, it's rare to see him without a smile gracing his face.

Teaching though, that was an entirely different side of him. While teaching he gains this hard glint in his eyes that's impossible to miss. Yes, there are jokes told and crinkly-eyed laughing ensues, but there are times for that, and there are times for learning.

He is kind and helpful and struggling students don't tire him and he never gets bored with teaching like most teachers do after a few years. He talks fast when he's excited and when the subject is something he loves, which most of my classmates find ridiculously adorable. 

I absolutely loathe him. 

I've had the so-called honor-as referenced by fellow classmates-of knowing him my entire life. My mom used to drop me off at his house across the street whenever she worked a long shift at the hospital. He was still young then, pretty much fresh out of high school, going to some college off the babysitting payments my mom provided and the small art supplies store around the corner. That was all when I was younger, as in elementary school younger. Now I'm a senior, seventeen years old, and I only ever see him in class or when my mom goes on the occasional long shift (and by occasional I mean practically all the time). I haven't been in his house in years, but he has the key to mine and my cell number and basically I never know if I'm actually alone.

Not that I mind, of course. I'm asexual; I've known since I was young. I didn't know what the name was, but I knew that I felt things differently than the rest of the horny twelve-year-olds I went to school with. Apparently I make it really obvious because I'm never approached about it but it's mentioned casually in conversation. 

And yeah, I've been in relationships, but they never got too serious, and really the only advantage these relationships held is that they made it glaringly obvious that I am, in fact, a flaming homosexual (which, apparently, isn't obvious). To give myself some credit, every relationship lasted at least two months, and none ended because I'm ace. To be completely honest, they had all ended because any relationship we had had slowly evolved into nothing more than a close friendship. No fighting, no drama, just completely mutual endings.

I'm quite proud of that, actually.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. I grunt a quick goodbye to my friends before trudging off to my last two classes of the day. I trail behind our favorite babysitter/teacher. My last two classes are with him. As I walk behind, I notice that he's typing away on his phone, not even pretending to pay attention to where he's going. I'm wondering what he's doing so late into passing period when I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my skinny jeans. I pull it out of my pocket and read the name flashed across the screen: MR. WAY. I decide to wait until my TA period to respond.

I walk into his classroom and sit in my desk at the far end of the room, across from the door. I begin to mentally prepare myself for the torture that is my 5th period English class. I was never good at English. Not the practical, classroom kind anyway. Writing, I'm good at, as long as it's not required. The stupid essays we have to write on character development or whatever about a character in a book who would never exist in the real world trip me the hell up. There isn't meaning in essays, no feelings, just the same old dull information every single unit. 

I force myself to focus on my work and manage to finish everything assigned in forty minutes. Once I'm finished I pack my things away slowly and make my to the front of the room. As I reach the desk Mr. Way flashes me a smile and gestures to the rotating desk chair next to him. I sit next to him, waiting for him to strike up a conversation. 

Just as he stretches and begins to start a conversation a student comes up with a question. As he helps her with the assignment I pull my phone out of my pocket again and read the message. 

FROM: Mr. Way  
You're coming home with me.

"Gosh, Mr. Way, if the school finds out you're talking to a student like this, you won't be a teacher for much longer," I joke lightly in response to the message, knowing he'll know what I talking about. The other student gives me a funny look, but apparently she understands the work now, because she walks away. 

"Shut the hell up, Frankie," he grins down at me. He's the only one who calls me that, or rather, the only person who's allowed to call me that. If anyone else calls me Frankie I immediately shut them down. I feel bad after, of course, but its just not the same.

Hey, I said I hated him, not that we aren't friends. I've known him my whole life, after all. 

"So my mom's working tonight?"

"Yeah, and she wants you at my house tonight. Forgot the key, or something."

Shit, I forgot the key again.

"You could just let me in," I say, not really wanting to spend more time with my teacher than I already do.

"Well, smartass, I wasn't expecting having to go to your house at all today, so I left my key at home. We would have to stop by my place anyway. Besides, I'm making some kickass pasta for dinner tonight, and I'm almost certain that you'll want in on that," he smirks at me, certain he's caught my attention. 

My eyes widen at his offer and I do a terrible job of hiding my smile. My pathetic lack of self-restraint doesn't go unnoticed by Mr. Way. The bell rings in the background of our conversation and the last class of the day files in. He smirks smugly, turning to greet the incoming class. I lean back in the desk chair, watching him teach. He runs a hand through his light brown hair. It's tousled, almost messily, but it's obvious he doesn't style it that way. He waves his hands exaggeratedly as he talks, emphasizing the important things and keeping the insignificant things short and simple.

I catch myself staring and avert my eyes. I fight the blush creeping over my cheeks and up my neck. I pull a book out of my bag. As Mr. Way passes he tries to start up a conversation again, but I only grunt in response, making it clear that I don't want to talk. I manage to read through the period, ignoring Mr. Way and any immature thoughts about him. After all, Mr. Way is a teacher. That can't happen anyway, if it were even going to. It's just a stupid daydream born in a bored, teenage boy's mind.

The final bell rings. Students rush out of the room, leaving to do whatever kids my age do for fun on Friday afternoons.

Each other, probably.

I watch Mr. Way watch pack his things. He cards a tired hand through hair while looking for some papers. His hazel eyes dart over his desk in search of something. I suddenly feel the urge to grab his hand, put a hand on cheek, touch him somehow.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I shake myself out of my thoughts just as Mr. Way stands from his desk. He was humming while he searched, I realize, and now he's singing softly under his breath. An old Green Day song, I think. He stops suddenly; the classroom seems too quiet now.

"Frankie?" he looks down at me questioningly.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry if you don't want to come. Mom's orders, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know, it's fine. I didn't have anything to do, anyway," I bite my lip, clicking my lip ring against my teeth. 

"Frankie?" I look back up at him and nod at him to continue," Do you have anything to do here? Before we go?"

I shake my head, and he leads the way out to the parking lot.


	2. In which Bert is an asshole and Frank curses his slow brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are a lot shorter than I thought they were...I apologize for the short read. Let me know what you think!  
> ~Al

Mr. Way turns the radio on as soon as we get in the car. He smiles at the song, starting to sing along. As we pull out of the parking lot the chorus plays. He reaches out with one hand to turn the volume up, singing as loud as he can. He looks like he's having a great time. I find myself smiling at the look of pure joy on my teacher's face.

I don't feel an ounce of shame. 

I really don't mind. I love loud music, that's pretty much the only way I can listen to it. Loud is how music is supposed to be played. I don't mind his singing either. He has an amazing voice; I used to love listening to it. He used to sing around the house when he babysat me. If I were closer with him, I would thank him for it. His careless singing got me into all the music I listen to know. If it weren't for him I would listen to the same crappy, repetitive music everyone else at my school listens to. 

Okay, maybe I don't actually LOATHE him.

Maybe just a strong dislike?

I dunno.

We pull up in his driveway. His house, like all the ones in our neighborhood, is fairly small, one-story. I'm surprised to find that I can still remember the layout before I remember that it is an exact mirror of mine.

Yeah, I feel pretty dumb right now. 

Our neighborhood is only a few minutes away from school, so the song is still on when we pull into the driveway. He sings the last few bars as we get out of the car. I gaze longingly at my house across the street. I dream of an escape, even though I know I probably won't get one. 

We walk slowly up the driveway toward the front door. We're not in a rush or anything, so getting in the door isn't really of priority.

There isn't really any priority, at the moment. 

Before we reach the door, though, it slams open and a greasy looking man stumbles out the door, bottle in hand. His shoulder-length brown hair looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks. He's shirtless and his sweatpants hang low on his hips. He's wearing sunglasses, for some reason, even though it's cloudy out.

To hide red eyes maybe?

No, he doesn't seem like one to hide his drunken stupor.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mr. Way roll his eyes and run a hand through his hair. He takes in a deep breath, holding it in for a moment and letting it all out in a whoosh. He grabs my upper arm and steers me away from the man. As the man starts to stumble over to us Mr. Way turns to me.

"Frank, I need you to stay here for a minute while I get this idiot to leave," I blink at the lack of nickname, but a question forms in my mind.

"Wait, who's that? Why was he in your house?"

"It's Bert. He's an... ex, I guess. Just stay here," he says letting go of my arm. He stalks over to Bert in a way I've never seen him use before, like a predator. He tries to talk quietly with him but Bert is clearly wasted, and talking quietly isn't really a strong suit in drunk people. Soon enough I can hear practically everything they're saying, or at least a general idea. 

They aren't yelling, not yet anyway, but at this point they aren't even trying to be discreet. 

"So you've already replaced me, huh? Or is this just some street slut you picked up for an easy fuck?" Bert growls after a minute of their arguing, eyes flicking over to me and up and down my body. Shivers fight their way up my spine. 

"What the hell are you talking about? Does he look like a street fuck to you? That's a student, Bert, he needed a ride," Mr. Way shouts at him.

"Yeah, he needs a ride alright," Bert cackles at his own joke. Apparently this is the last straw for Mr. Way. 

"Get the fuck off my property, Bert," he snarls at him. My eyes widen almost comically at the amount of venom in his voice. I can only imagine what my face looks like right now. 

Bert blinks at Mr. Way, hesitating, but he reaches one large hand up and rests it on Mr. Way's cheek. He manages to whispers something to him. Mr. Way steps away from Bert's hand and Bert stumbles down the driveway and into the street. 

I watch Bert stumble his way down the street for minute before I remember my English teacher standing trembling two feet in front of me. He's shaking hard, his hands clenched by his sides, and I'm not sure if it's because of fear or rage. I slowly walk toward him, reaching out one hand to rest it on his shoulder. As soon as I touch him his hands fly up to his face, covering his tears, but he couldn't hide the sobs racking through his chest. We stand together for a moment, me rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder, him trying to pull himself together

He does after a few minutes, at least enough to pull the silver key out of his pocket and hand it to me. 

"Mr. Way, Bert left the door open," I whisper near his ear. That was apparently the wrong thing to say; before I even finish he bursts into tears again. I sigh deeply, resorting to rubbing circles into his shoulder again. 

Eventually I place my hand on the small of his back and start to lead him to the door. To my surprise he complies, walking forward in step with me. He reaches out for my hand and I take it without hesitation. The position is a bit awkward but I don't mind. All I can think about is him.

My English teacher.

Don't take that the wrong way.

Once we're in the house he detaches himself from my side. He trudges to the kitchen, almost dragging his feet. I set my bag down on the floor next to the door. I walk slowly after him, heading toward where the kitchen is. I hear him sniffling quietly before I turn the corner into the room. When I enter the room he is sitting on the counter, sipping a glass of water. Once he sees me he hums a note, jumping off the counter. He rummages through the cupboards around the kitchen, pulling ingredients out for dinner. It feels awkward just standing there watching him, but I don't know what to say.

"Hey," the single word hangs awkwardly in the air between us, and I curse myself for not resorting to something better. There were so many things I could have said, something other than 'hey'. He doesn't respond right away. But after a moment he looks over at me and smiles.

And seconds later he is wrapping his arms around me, tightly pressing my body against his. My response is automatic; I mimic his actions, hug him as tight as I can. Maybe at a different time it would have been weird, but the only thing I can think of, the only thought running through my mind, is that this is perfect. Everything about this could last forever.

And I wouldn't give a single fuck. 

"Thank you, Frankie," he whispers, pulling away but still clutching my forearms tightly.

"For what? I didn't do anything."

"Just for this. For not freaking out or leaving or anything," he replies, staring at the ground around my feet. 

I nod dumbly, too caught up in my own thoughts to come up with an actual answer. There is one thought present in my mind, making me useless and speechless. 

I don't hate Mr. Way. I probably never have.

I have a crush on my English teacher. Like a freaking thirteen-year-old girl.

What the fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mhm.  
> Btw I guess I should mention that flour fight... its next chapter. And the panic attack is the one after that. And then chapter 5(?) has lots of fluff. So be excited! They'll be up soon, I promise.  
> ~Al


	3. In which there is a flour fight and an almost kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters will be the death of me.

I find myself on Mr. Way's couch a few minutes later. I don't remember leaving the kitchen, but I'm here all the same. 

There are too many thoughts rushing through my head, but the general idea is that I never really disliked Mr. Way. I only disliked him because somehow I was subconsciously denying my feelings for him. And now that I've admitted it to myself, it's not going away any time soon. 

Holy crap, there really is nothing I can do about it. 

I groan audibly and wipe a hand down my face at the thought. This is really fucked up. Like really fucked up. This is borderline bathtub milk enemas fucked up.

I jump, startled, at the sound of his voice near my head, "You okay, Frankie?" It's polite and a little offhand, but I can tell its sincere. 

"It's nothing, I'm just getting a headache. I'll be fine," I reply. I congratulate myself for my quick-thinking, for once. 

"Okay. You sure you don't want any, like, Advil, or anything?" 

"No, I'm fine, Mr. Way," I pause for a moment, thinking. "Do you need help cooking?" I decide to be polite and helpful. 

What could go wrong,right? 

Yeah, I totally jinxed it.

 

He walks back to the kitchen. I take a minute or two to pull myself together before following. Just as I turn the corner I hear a short scream, like a puppy's yip. I quickly finish rounding the corner and burst out laughing at the sight before my eyes. 

"Shit, what did you do?" I ask through hiccups of laughter, forgetting that I probably shouldn't cuss in front of my English teacher. 

 

"I dunno, I guess the container I pulled out pulled the bag of flour out with it, and then: Ta Da. You know what Frankie, how 'bout you stop laughing and help me clean this up," I laugh even harder at his accusatory tone, but I take the damp washcloth he hands to me and start lightly dabbing at the flour, not wanting to turn it into a globby mess. 

After just a few minutes of working, and a surprising amount of progress, I hear Mr. Way giggle quietly. I look up, curious. As soon as my head is somewhat level with his he reaches a hand out, resting a flour-covered hand on my cheek. I freeze, already feeling the blush forming, but he doesn't notice it under my now flour covered face. He wipes his other hand on my other cheek, coating that side in flour as well, effectively-however accidentally- hiding my blush. 

He falls back onto his butt, throwing his head in hysterical laughter. It sit there blushing, waiting for him to recover enough to speak. He does so, slowly, and manages to gasp out between high-pitched giggles," You should see your face!" 

"Oh, yeah?" I reply,"Well what if I..."

I reach out resting both hands on both sides of his face, both of us on our knees facing each other. There is complete silence for a moment. 

And then my English teacher tackles me. 

What? 

The only thing I can think is why the hell is my English teacher acting so...childish? This is not normal teacher behavior, but the way we're rolling around in fucking flour distracts me from the thought for a moment. 

But then I land on my back and he lands on top of me, our faces centimeters apart. My flour-covered face conveniently hides my blush. I clear my throat awkwardly, squirming underneath him. I look at his face and can see a blush peeking through a tiny gap in the flour. 

We both stand and look around. Most of the flour is on our clothes. I curse under my breath, I don't have a change in clothes. I could always go home, but I really want this kickass pasta. 

I swear that's why. 

Just take my word for it. 

"I'll just vacuum the rest of this up, I guess," he mumbles, wiping flour off his hands onto his pants. He looks over at me, then down at himself and giggles. "I guess we should change, huh?" 

I just nod dumbly, again at a loss for words. I follow him back toward the bedrooms, into his. He walks over to the dresser, pulling out two new shirts and two pairs of sweatpants, throwing one set at me. "You can change in the other bedroom." 

I change in the other room, padding my way softly back into the kitchen, flour covered clothes in hand. 

He's already there, waiting to add my bundle of clothes to his. He takes it and smiles at me. 

"Would you mind filling that pot with water and setting it to boil?" 

I shake my head, walking over to the pot next to the sink, filling it with water and carefully walking it to the stove, setting it to high. I watch for a few minutes, testing the old wife's tale, 'a watched pot never boils'. After nothing happens I turn around and almost piss myself. Mr. Way is standing directly behind me, hand raised like he was going to tap my shoulder. He giggles at my fear before stepping back. 

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything. I know that you're asexual, you don't really hide it; but more than that I'm your teacher and I shouldn't have acted so childish. Even if we were just playing, I don't want to make you uncomfortable," by the time he's finished he's staring at the floor. I realize he's embarrassed so I reach out, placing both hands on his shoulders to gain his attention. 

"Hey, it's fine. We were just playing. Like old times," I say. 

"Mmkay," he nods,"but I don't know of any high seniors who enjoy rolling around flour," my jaw drops at the statement, but a moment later I realize he's kidding. "Come on, we all gotta have fun sometimes," he comments. I nod in agreement and he smiles down at me. "Alright, short stuff, let's make some pasta." 

As he walks away toward the now boiling water, I grin at the new nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mhm  
> I apologize for the shortness, I guess you are what you write.   
>  ~Al  
> P.s. I also apologize for that milk fic reference. I couldn't help myself.


	4. In which there is a kiss. That is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually incredibly short. SORRY  
> ~Al

We move around the kitchen preparing dinner. He pours the noodles into the boiling water. He moves away to get some vegetables so I stir the noodles. We take turns tending the noodles and the vegetables. We move in sync with each other, not a step out of place. We sing as we cook, old punk songs and new. After a few minutes it’s just him singing while I sit on his counter and just listen, falling in love with his voice.  


Wait.  


Before we know it the food is done and we sit at Mr. Way's strangely large dining room table. He sits at the head and I sit to his right. We just sit and talk for a while, knees brushing innocently. A comfortable silence settles between us. I notice him not eating, just playing with his food. 

“Mr. Way, is something wrong? You look… confused,” I ask him.

“I’m fine, I just…I’m gonna ask you a weird question, okay?” he’s still staring at his food, almost like he’s embarrassed. 

I hesitate, but reply, “Shoot, Mr. Way.”

“It’s Gee,” I shoot him a confused look, “My name, it’s Gee.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward pause before he continues, “I was gonna ask you…shit, this was a stupid idea, forget it, I-”

“Just tell me, I’m not gonna judge you or anything,” ‘I am, after all, starting to fall in love with you’ I tack on in my head.

“I, ah… are you… attracted to me?” the last words come out in a rush, like he didn’t actually want to say them.

I blink at him, but I find myself answering immediately, “Yes.” 

I can see the surprise on his face but he shakes his head to clear his mind, saying, “H-how… why would anyone think I’m attractive, I’m old and loud and ridiculously annoying and-“

“Just shut the fuck up for a second, okay?” I lose all restraint, staring at him incredulously. I heave a sigh, wiping a hand down my face and replying, “Holy shit, Gee, you really think you’re not attractive? You are one of the most attractive people I know, and not just appearance-wise, though that’s certainly part of it. You’re incredibly smart and incredibly funny. I’m probably completely screwing myself over for talking like this, but I’m gonna continue because I’m so fucking pissed that you don’t see how incredibly beautiful you are,” I pause to catch my breath, taking in the surprise on his face before continuing, “ I could talk about your voice for days, I mean-”

“M-my voice?” he interrupts, which I’m strangely okay with.

“Yeah, and not just singing, just talking or even fucking laughing. Like seriously, I’m ace, but sometimes it’s like ‘Fuck me right now’-” 

Gee interrupts me again, only this time he isn’t talking. He presses his lips against mine, roughly, like he needs it, but gently, resting one hand on my cheek. I pull back first. I’m not sure why; I know I want this, at least a little bit. I’m scared, I guess, or surprised. Probably both. When I pull back Gee sits back down, staring blankly at the space in front of him. 

“Shit,” he whispers, “shit, what was I thinking. I’m sorry, Frank, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I-”

“It’s fine,” I say, but we both know it’s not. 

The food we made together lies cold between us. I pick at it for a minute, no longer hungry. 

“I don’t take back anything I said,” I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I wouldn’t be able to look at him. He nods at me and mumbles something, blushing. A thanks, maybe. He stands a moment later, taking my plate and his to the sink. I watch him for a moment, trying to tell myself that my blushing teacher wasn’t infuriatingly adorable. He turns back to me, that serious glint in his eyes.

Uh-oh. 

“That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry. You’re underage, and on top of that I’m your teacher. I probably made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

I blink at him in surprise for a moment before turning away, trying to hide my disappointment. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I read the message and groan, smacking my head against the table. 

“What?” Gee asks. I turn the phone for him to read. 

FROM: Mom  
Hey! I’m working shifts this weekend. I want you to stay with Mr. Way. I’ll be back Sunday night. Love you!

I watch his eyes follow the words. I stop myself from smiling at him, his mouth slightly agape and tongue sticking out slightly. 

“Will the torture ever end?” he groans, wiping a hand over his face.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, slightly irritated. 

“Hey, you’re the one who groaned first. Oh, and is your fucking forehead okay? Besides, after everything that just happened, you have to stay for two more days?”

I shrug, “You could always just let me into my house.”

“No, your mom wants you here.”

“Why?”

“I think she wants you safe. Under surveillance. She trusts you, she’s just being a mom,” Gee answers, turning back to the dishes. “You’ll have to stay in the spare room, but I’ll clean the sheets real quick, they’re probably dusty.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me, and a few minutes later he leaves to wash the sheets. I run a hand over my face, sighing deeply. In less than a day I’ve gone from hating my teacher to practically being in love with him. Now I get to stay with him for two more days.

Fuck my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but it looks like I'll only be able to post on the weekends. I'll try to post from the hospital, when I can, but that's not always a possibility. In other news, I've finished rough-drafting up to chapter 8 for this fic, and I've started another one. I'll try to post again soon, but I may not be able to.  
> Also, sorry again for the shortness.  
> ~Al


	5. Panic attack and fluff (kinda)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT SHORT SHORT IM SORRY seriously though I need to start writing longer chapters.  
> ~Al

Gee and I stand in his laundry room in complete silence. We both look anywhere but each other. I can tell he wants to say something, start something even nearing conversation, and so do I, but every idea is awkward and too formal for natural conversation. After a while he goes to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water. He takes a drink, and turns to me. 

"Oh shit, sorry," he says, choking a bit. "I should've gotten you some, I'm such an idiot." He extends the glass to me. 

And just like that, my stupid fucking heart is beating faster. But I have to do something, don't I?

"Sure," I shrug and accept the drink. I feel like an idiot. It's a freaking sip of water. 

The dryer dings, startling us both. Gee takes the bedding out of the dryer. He nods his head in the direction of the hall and leads me out. I follow, picking up pieces of bedding that he drops on the way there. He bumps the door to the spare room open with his hip. He dumps all the bedding he hasn't dropped onto the bed and turns to me.

"I, ah, I usually stay up for awhile on Fridays. You can stay up, if you want, or just go to bed. You're welcome anywhere in the house, I guess."

"Umm... I'm just gonna go to bed, I think." 

"Alright, I'll be next door in the living room. Let me know if the TV's too loud or anything," he says, heading to the door. 

"Thanks, Mr. Way."

"It's Gee," he replies, leaving the room. I stare after him for a minute. I shake myself out of my stupor and climb into the bed. I can hear the TV buzzing quietly in the next room. For some reason that makes me feel closed in and... alone. 

Suddenly, my chest feels constricted and I can't breathe. A feeling of dread fills my head and turns my body to ice. 'Water' I think, 'I just need water.' I sit up and pull the sheets, still warm from the dryer, off of me. I try to stand, but my equilibrium is off and I'm shaking violently. I topple over. I hear my body hit the hardwood floor. I hear something shuffling in the next room over; a moment later my door bursts open and Gee hurries to my side. 

"Frank! Frankie, what's wrong?" Gee puts one hand under my neck and the other around my waist, lifting into his lap. He holds my shaking form against him and rocks back and forth slowly. 

"P-panic attack," I gasp out, struggling to speak.

Gee hums worriedly. He lifts me surprisingly easily. He carries me to his to his room. Gee sets me on his bed, brushing my hair back from my sweaty forehead. He's whispering, but I can't really tell what he's saying, something about breathing and focusing I think. He rubs soothing circles into the middle of my chest . I feel myself starting to calm down, unclenching the fists that I had unknowingly clenched at my sides. I take deep breaths while my head clears. I wipe away the wetness I felt on my face.

Not tears. I definitely was not crying.

Gee lays next to me, humming while he waits for me to catch my breath. 

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"What happened?"

"I dunno. That just... happens," I mumble. Gee sits up, gesturing for me to do the same. We sit cross-legged on his bed. I don't know what to with my hands so I just clasp them in my lap. For a few minutes we sit in uncomfortable silence. He opens his mouth to speak a few times, but shuts it. He's avoiding sounding too blunt, I think.

"Do you... do you have medication? Sorry if it's personal, but I need to know."

"I... yeah, it's in my bag. I didn't take it at dinner."

"What is it? I'll go get it for you, I just need to know what I'm giving you."

"Um, Xanax, it's for-"

"Mm, I know the stuff. I'll be right back. You want water too?"

I nod and he pads away in the direction of the front hall. The sound of his footsteps calm me, make me feel less... lonely, I guess. 

I realize, suddenly, that I'm drenched in sweat. I stand, not wanting to get Gee's sheets dirty. I sigh, realizing I probably ruined his shirt. I resort to just taking it off, standing there awkwardly. So, of course, when Gee returns with the pills and water I, being the awkward little shit I am, blush to the approximate shade of a double-Decker bus. 

"I, uh, need a shirt," I mumble. Gee hands me the water and pills. He walks over to his dresser and pulls a drawer out. He looks back at me apologetically. 

"All these shirts would be huge on you. Do you mind?"

I shake my head no and shrug, so he tosses a plain black shirt at me. It lands on the bed between us. I down my pills and the glass of water and cover myself with the oversized t-shirt. He smiles at me once I'm covered. 

"How 'bout you stay here. I'll come back in a few minutes, but I know you don't want to be alone, so just stay here, okay?" I climb into Gee's bed, not thinking twice about the offer in my post-panic exhaustion. I lay on my side, pulling one of the pillows to my stomach and holding it close to my body. 

The last thing I remember is a something warm pressing into the bed beside me and a warm arm curling around my waist. I can't help but think how loved I feel. All the thoughts that started my panic attack are long gone. I shift closer into the arm curled around me, smiling sleepily and slipping into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is kinda awkward..I had more stuff to say, but I couldn't figure out how to say it. Next chapter, I promise. Also, no promises, but I might be able to post sometime before Friday... we'll see...  
> ~Al


	6. I should probably leave the chapter names blank from now on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be incredibly short...but hey, I updated!   
> Leave me a comment, I live off of them. 
> 
> x~Al

I wake up Saturday morning at a few minutes past eight. It sit up in Gee's bed-

Wait. 

My teacher's bed. I'm sitting, I slept in, my teacher's bed. I stretch and breath in deeply, letting that sink in. 

No, not a literal sink. 

I hate the Internet. 

I pout when I realize that Gee's gone. I'm starting to get up and look for him when he walks in. He smiles at me, but he keeps walking to the bathroom. I watch him take his shirt off before he closes the door with his foot. Just from that one glance I'm blushing. 

What the hell? 

I hear the shower turn on, so I see that as my cue to leave and look for some coffee. I head to the kitchen, padding down the hall in bare feet. I pass a mirror on the way, so I pause to check my appearance, as well as my life choices. 

I slept with my teacher last night. 

Okay, so not in the dirty way, and nothing happened yesterday, besides that kiss that I can't stop thinking about, which technically means I'm screwed. 

Not literally. 

Forget it. 

I try to fix my hair as best I can. I look down at my shirt and blush. Gee's shirt. It really is huge on me. I can't help but think about how couple-y this is. I feel like I'm wearing my boyfriend's too-big sweatshirt, which, to be honest, happens to me often. 

I hate being small sometimes. 

I sigh and walk on to the kitchen. When I walk in I see the coffee pot already full of coffee. I notice a post-it note stuck to the counter beside it. 

I roll my eyes at his tackiness. I grab the note from the counter and read Gee's writing, noticing for the first time that he doesn't use lowercase letters. 

GOOD MORNING, SHORTSTUFF! I MADE ENOUGH COFFEE FOR BOTH OF US (DON'T HOG IT ALL). REMEMBER YOUR MEDS, THEY'RE IMPORTANT...  
-GEE XX

I blush at the x's, forcing myself to believe that they weren't intentional. I head back to the front door where I left my bag yesterday. When I pull the little pill bottle out I put the note he left in, blushing once again.

Damn, I've been doing a lot of blushing lately. 

I hear Gee singing as he walks down the hall. I turn around to head towards him and the kitchen, but I freeze in my tracks. Gee stands against the wall, leaning on his shoulder, arms crossed casually. His hair is still dripping a bit and looks mussed and untidy and I kinda wanna run my hands through it. 

Yeah, I have a problem. 

He sighs deeply, running his own hand through his hair. As if he read my fucking mind. I can tell he's about to start a lecture, and by the look in his eyes I can tell this isn't going to be good. 

"Frank," he starts. No nickname. Uh-oh. "Once again, I failed to be a responsible adult. But what's new. Everything that happened yesterday shouldn't ha-" 

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Gee," I'm tired of us and our bullshit, tip-toeing around each other and out feelings. I walk straight up to him, place one hand on his hip and the other on his cheek, and kiss him straight on the mouth. 

Or gay on the mouth, rather.

Just like that. 

Gee hesitates, pulling back but immediately giving in, placing both hands on my shoulders. It's an innocent kiss, at least as innocent as something like this could get. It lasts a few seconds, no tongue, of course. Gee knows my limits, and respects them. I'm glad he understands. 

I grin into the kiss and pull back. We smile at each other shyly. 

"So yeah, I'm more than fine with this. I'm tired of this. You make me think you want this, but then you pull back, act like a fucking adult. You can't just change your mind every two seconds, Gee, so I made the decision for you," I pause for air and take his hand in mine. "This is happening. I don't care what you call it, but I have feelings for you, you have feelings for me, and this is happening." 

He nods, but he still looks unsure. Turns out he was unsure about something completely different than I thought.

"You're ace, aren't you? So that kiss?"

"That kiss,"I reply, leaning my head on his chest,"is as far as I'll go."

He giggles and kisses the top of my head, wrapping his arms around me. 

"Well," he says,"I have some things to take care of by Monday, but that can wait. For now, I have popcorn in the snack cupboard and a shit ton of movies that we can watch to waste the day away." 

I grin and peck him on the lips quickly. He leads me by the hand to the kitchen, where more chaste kissing and playful grins ensue. 

Yeah, this is actually happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be awkward, but I have nothing to lose...how do you italicize words?  
> x~Al


	7. The sex talk and Bert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized (with some help from a wonderful commenter) that some things need to be made clear. So here goes.  
> x~Al

We find ourselves a few minutes later in Gee's living room watching some cheesy horror film. I'm sitting cross-legged, wearing baggy sweatpants and no shirt, cradling a mug of steaming coffee. Gee sits beside me, grading work. 

He groans suddenly, tossing a stack of papers onto the coffe table. He shifts and lays down so that his head is resting on my lap. I play with his hair, running it through the gaps between my fingers. 

"I really, really don't wanna grade any more papers." 

"Ah, well, guess teaching wasn't your calling after all," I joke, tracing my thumb over his lips. I feel him smile under my thumb. 

"Frankie, you're really beautiful, you know that?" I look down at him and smile.

"You're more beautiful." 

"Did you...like me? I mean before yesterday?" He sits up, questioning me shyly. He takes my hands and pulls them into his lap, playing with my fingers. I think for a few moments. 

"Yeah," I reply eventually, "I just didn't know it." 

"Oh." We sit in silence for a moment before he says, "We have to talk about this, don't we?" I nod solemnly. "Okay. Obviously, this shouldn't be happening anyway," he pauses to peck me on the lips, reassuring me that he does want this, "but it is. This is gonna be hard. I don't want to hurt you, I know what that feels like. If things get too risky this will have to stop. You understand?" I smile at him sadly. I'm not completely stupid, I know that we can't get caught. "I, ah, well I have a question for you, too," Gee mumbles, staring at the couch between us. 

"Shoot." 

"If, ah, if it came down to it, would you...ah...have sex...with me?" He asks, blushing but still looking at me straight in the face. I admire his bravery, seeing as I'm suddenly terrified and shaking. I take a deep breath to steady myself. 

"I've actually, ah, had this conversation before, but it terrifies me every time," I grin at him briefly and continue, "I've always been ace, obviously, and I've told myself for as long as I can remember that if I ever...love someone, I'll do whatever it takes to make them happy. So when the time comes, if it comes, I can deal with sex. It's not a huge deal for me, I just…I dunno…I'm not…aroused by anything. I don't find sex fun like most people do. And this is the part where people would say 'You just haven't experienced it yet' to which I would reply 'Screw off,'" Gee laughs at that. I feel comforted by his giggle, and continue, "Seriously, though, if it's something that you want, once I get comfortable enough with you, we can...try." Gee smiles at me. He brings my knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly. 

"You're the best, Frankie," I shift so that I'm tucked into his side. I kiss his shoulder, content with the discussion. 

Just as we start to relax again, Gee picking up the ungraded papers, there's a loud bang on the front door. We both jump and Gee curses under his breath. A loud voice booms from outside from outside. The door muffles his words, but I recognize the slur.

Bert. 

"Frank, go to my room. He can't see you, he'll be more angry if he does. Please, Frankie just go," he says urgently. I hesitate, not wanting to leave him, but that teacher's glint appears in his eyes. I nod and lean in, kissing his jaw quickly and squeezing his hand. I stand and walk slowly down the hall to Gee's bedroom. From his room I hear him open the door. Bert's bare feet smack loudly against the hardwood floor. His footsteps are stumbling. I hear him and Gee talking, then arguing. The words are muffled, but I can tell the argument is word than it sounds. I hear Gee yell something, then a sharp smacking noise. The front door slams, so I quietly open Gee's bedroom door, peeking down the hall. Seeing no sign of Gee or Bert I pad down the hall, in search of Gee. 

"Gee?" I find him in the kitchen, left cheek bright red. "Oh, Gee," I say, walking towards him. When I approach him I reach out and touch his cheek. He winces and flinches back, clearly in pain. I draw him into my chest, he buries his head in my neck. My neck quickly grows wet with his tears. 

"He won't leave me alone," Gee whispers after a few minutes. 

"I know, it's okay. You're okay. Look at me," I say, leaning my forehead against his and look straight into his eyes. "You're okay. He can't hurt you. You're here with me, you're okay. I promise you." I kiss him, letting him deepen the kiss for a minute before I pull back. "You okay now?" 

He nods and kisses my forehead. "Thank you, Frankie." 

"Let's go finish that movie, yeah?" I smile at him. He squeezes my hand, and I lead him back to the living room. We watch the rest of the movie. When Gee stands to pop another one in and bring me my pills I stretch out over where he lay before. He comes back and rolls his eyes at me me, but he just moves my legs so he can sit down, setting my legs back down on top of his. Eventually he lays down behind me, curling a protective arm over my chest. It's not anytime near nightfall, but the steady rise and fall of his chest makes me sleepy. I turn into his chest and wrap my arms around his torso. 

The last thing I remember is Gee turning the TV off and planting a soft kiss at the top of my head. We fall asleep like that, early and without dinner.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that helps? If not, leave a comment and I'll try to explain it better. Thanks for reading!   
> x~Al


	8. Showers and scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of cutting and scars. Stay safe guys. <3  
> x~Al

I wake before Gee this time. I find a post-it note on one of the stacks of work he was grading and write him a note on his coffee cup. 

'Morning, love. Don't freak out, I'm taking a shower. x-Frank'

I head down the down the hall, laughing at my fluffy bed head in the hall mirror. I walk into his room, heading to the connecting bathroom. As I pass through I notice one of the dresser drawers slightly open. Curious, I walk over to see what it holds. I feel guilty snooping, but it caught my eye, and I can't help my curiosity. 

Curiosity killed the cat, after all, but I'm more of a dog person. 

I pull the drawer out the rest of the way. My eyes widen, but I realize I shouldn't be surprised. Gee is an adult, after all, and he has been in relationships. 

I pick up the little bottle of lube. I've never actually seen one, let alone held one. It's more than half empty. I giggle at the situation. I'm in my English teacher's room, holding his lube. 

"What's funny?" Gee asks from behind me. I jump two feet into the air, almost dropping the little bottle. 

"Shit, you scared me," I say panting slightly. He grins at me.

"What's funny, Frankie?"

"Nothing, I just...well, I...I'm holding your fucking lube," I struggle to form the words between giggles, busting out laughing as soon as the words are out of my mouth. His eyes widen and hurries over to me, taking the bottle before I can recover from my laughing fit. 

"What the hell, Frankie?" He tries to sound stern but he's laughing too. I wave him off, heading to the bathroom. 

"I'm gonna take a shower, okay?" 

"Mind if I join you?" The blood drains from my face. I turn back to face him, rubbing my neck awkwardly.

"Gee, I...I don't-"

"No, Frankie, I was only kidding. Unless you're okay with it. I have to go to the school for a bit, and I need a shower."

"...oh." 

"It's fine if you don't want to, obviously, but I need to shower before I go, so I'll have to go first, okay?" He walks to me as he talks, taking both my hands in his and running the backs soothingly with his thumbs. I smile and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. I pull back to kiss him, resting one hand on his cheek. He grins and hums into the kiss pulling back slightly. He rests his forehead against mine and says, "I'd love to continue, but I need to be at the school by 11, and it's almost 10." 

I sigh heavily and pout. He grins at me, waiting for an answer, so I peck his lips and lead him by the hand to the bathroom. 

"You sure Frankie? You don't have to, you can just wait 'til I'm done," Gee squeezes my hand as I lead him. 

"It's just a dick, Gee, I've seen dicks before. Just don't do anything with it and I'm cool," I reply, laughing. He giggles loudly. We walk in step the rest of the way to the restroom, hand in hand. Once we're in the restroom he turns the shower on. He turns back to face me. We face each other awkwardly for a moment before he beams at me. 

"This is so weird," he giggles. He takes his shirt off and starts to slide his pants off. I do the same. Surprisingly, I'm not blushing. For once. I walk over to the mirror to slide my lip ring off. It annoys me if I wear it in the shower for some reason. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Gee watching me from in the shower. 

"What?" 

"You have a pretty nice ass," Gee comments. I blush, damn it, and climb into the shower with him, turning away. "But an even better face. You're cute when you blush." 

"Thanks," I mumble, blushing harder. Gee grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around. He kisses me lightly, then wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. 

"You're so beautiful, Frankie," he whispers into the top of my head. 

"Not as much as you," I shake my head and draw back, taking his hands in mine. That's when I notice the scars running horizontally over his arms and shoulders, one long one down the center of his forearm. "Oh, Gee," I whisper. He starts to cry, but he's trying to hold it in. I kiss both his shoulders and his wrist, my movements slow. I wrap my arms around his torso to hug him tightly. He draws in a shuddering breath. 

"I'm such an idiot, you weren't supposed to see, not yet," he cries into my already wet hair. I stand back, shaking and scared, but knowing that I have to do this. 

"Gee, look at my legs," I mumble. He looks down at my legs, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth. Scars cover them, coat them, even. There are many, enough to show that it's a problem, anyway. I feel tears spilling out of my eyes and I stifle a sob, trying to hold it in for him. I need to be strong, he needs me to be strong. "I understand Gee," I say, wrapping my arms around his thin waist tightly. "It's okay, I understand. We'll get this, I promise. We're gonna be fine, we're gonna make it through this. We'll get through this, together." 

"Together," he repeats, kissing my forehead.


	9. Unforunate Timing and A Bruised Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rly sorry, I've had the worst writer's block. So in apology, here's a kinda shitty but kinda good chapter... sorry.  
> x~Al

After our shower, Gee and I head to his kitchen, talking on the way and as we make our breakfast. He scrambles some eggs while I watch, singing softly and planting kisses on the back of his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his waist. We sit up on his counters, eating in silence for a minute. 

"I think that's the first time in awhile that I've taken a shower with a guy without sucking him off," Gee says. I bust out laughing, choking on my food, clutching at the stitch formed in my side from laughing so hard. "I'm being completely serious!" he chokes out, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. 

"Gee, you should go, it's like five minutes to eleven," I say, still giggling slightly. 

"Shit, you're right. Walk me to the door, yeah?" Gee replies. He grabs his coat from the back of a chair and grabs my hand, steering me out of the kitchen. We walk to the door hand in hand. He unlocks the front door, turning back to me after taking a step outside. He plants a quick kiss on my lips. "I'll see you around one, okay?"

"Mhm. I'll be here." He grins at me.

"Duh. Where else would you go? I... yeah, I'll see you," Gee says awkwardly, leaving my sorry ass blushing on his doorstep as he hurried down the driveway to his car. I know what he was gonna say, but why didn't he? Do I want him to? I guess I have to think I about this. Fuck. 

I don't know what this is. What we are. Obviously, it's not just sex; sex isn't even in the picture. I don't know if Gee liked me before when he was 'Mr. Way' and I 'hated' him or if this all sprouted from something that happened yesterday. I smile at the memory of the flour fight and realize that I don't care if this all started yesterday. If this is serious, if this can actually happen, then I would take it, take him, with everything I have. We're already comfortable with each other, and he understands and respects my limits. Gee is the kindest, most caring, most respectful person I know, and I know I'm extremely lucky to have him. 

So, yeah, I'm in love with him. I'm in love with my teacher. 

And I couldn't be happier. 

I grin to myself and chuckle at the absurdity of the this, stretching out over my teacher's-Gee's-couch. I reach for the remote resting on the coffee table, but a rough knock on the front door surprises me and I fall off the couch. 

"Gee, I found my key, it was under the fuckin' couch. Open the door, or I'll come in on my own. Gerard, please, I just wanna talk," Bert's slurred voice calls from outside. I freeze, thinking quickly, but not quick enough. Bert appears in a crack between Gee's curtains, looking for any sign of life in the house. He spots me lying on the floor, peering awkwardly up at him. He darts back to the door, setting the doorknob rattling. I scramble to my feet, hitting my hip on the table while getting up. I curse loudly, but I move on, limping as fast as I can toward Gee's room. 

"What the fuck, Gee! You lied to me! You're fucking this stupid slut! You could have me, Gee, why won't you take me?" Bert screams, raging through the house. I sit on the far side of Gee's bed, trying to stay out of sight and listening to Bert rummage through the kitchen. I can hear him slamming cupboards open as he goes. 

Am I really that small? 

Bert charges down the hallway and straight into Gee's bedroom. 

Or gay into Gee's bedroom. 

Whatever.

"So Gee isn't here to save you're pretty ass, huh?" Bert taunts, pacing slowly around the bed. He rounds the corner, scoffing at my hiding place. I roll my eyes and stand. "I don't know if he cares about you, knowing him he doesn't, but I really don't give a fuck. I'm gonna beat you to a fucking bloody mess for him to find," he says, then leans forward so that he's whispering in my ear, "and when you wake up, you tell him this is his own fuckin fault." 

I puts my hands up, palms to him, as if I were going to try to calm him. It was a stupid idea, really, I'm half his size, probably less. He just laughs and knocks my hands away with his left hand, immediately punching me in the eye with his right. I stumble back, holding a hand to my face. Bert grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around, pushing me down at the end of the bed. He straddles my waist, starting to pound his heavy fists into my face. He hits me several times before the world begins to go dark. I feel blood trickling from my nose and mouth. 

The last thing I remember before passing out is a loud, almost animalistic scream from Bert and one more hard hit to my left temple. 

-

I wake up under the covers in Gee's bed. I sit up slowly, attempting to ignore the heavy pounding in my head. Gee is in the kitchen; I can hear him singing from here. I climb out of Gee's bed, noticing as I leave the room that Gee had changed my clothes. There was probably blood on them, or the shirt at least. I walks down the hall into the kitchen, heading to where Gee is standing at the sink, washing dishes. I wrap my arms around his waist, standing up on my toes to kiss his neck.

"Oh, hey, Frankie," he says, turning to face me. He plants kiss on my forehead. "You okay?"

"Yeah. My head kinda hurts."

"I would think so. Have you seen yourself yet?" I shake my head, so he leads me to the hall mirror by the hand. Once we're there I lean closer to the mirror to examine my face. My cheeks are bruised, and my eye is a dark bluish-purple. I touch it tentatively, wincing when my fingers brush the bruises. I shrug and stand straight, letting Gee wrap his arms around my torso. He buries his head in my shoulder, sniffling quietly, almost reluctantly, and draws in a shuddering breath. 

"I'm so sorry, Frankie, I shouldn't have left you alone, I... he beat the shit out of you and it's my fault and I-I... it's all my fault," Gee stutters, crying into my shoulder. He lifts his head and kisses me softly behind my ear. I smile at our reflection in the mirror before turning into his chest and kissing his jaw. 

"It's okay, Gee, you had no way of knowing this would happen."

"Are you sure Frank? I should've been here, I shouldn't have left you alone," Gee whimpers. I lean back from his chest and kiss him, sighing as relief floods my senses, and feeling him relax through it. 

"I'm okay, Gee. We just have to be careful, yeah?" 

"Mhm."

"Shit, my mom. Is she home?" Gee nods.

"She called an hour ago. It's pretty late, shortstuff. I told her that you'd already fallen asleep, and I'd give you a ride. She brought some clothes for you for tomorrow," he explains. He leads me to the living room, gesturing to the clothes lying on the couch, giggling and waiting for my reaction. I groan and turn into his shoulder, trying-and failing-to hide my embarrassment. 

Apparently my mom decided to bring the most embarrassing set of clothes I own: a baby blue knit sweater and a pair of too-big, hand-me-down jeans. To top it off, she also brought a pair of tighty-whiteys that I haven't worn in years. I pout up at Gee, putting on my best puppy-dog look. 

"Can I borrow clothes? Please, I can't wear this, this is terrible," I plead. He grins and kisses my temple. 

"Yeah, of course," he pauses and faces me, smirking at me. "We've been together two days and you're already stealing my clothes." I smile and blush, shoving him playfully. 

"Shut up."

"Come on, it's like eleven, we need to get to bed," Gee says, tugging on my sleeve. I nod at him, yawning as if to emphasize the time. I follow him back to his bedroom. He walks straight to the bathroom to change once we're there, so I just take off my shirt and the sweatpants he lent me, folding them and setting them on the dresser. I hear Gee emerge behind me, but I just slide under the covers of his bed. He joins me a moment later, curling himself around me. I can already feel myself falling asleep. 

"Goodnight, Frankie."

"Goodnight, Gee. I love you," I mumble sloppily in my half asleep state. I feel Gee smile into my neck.

"I-I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me like three hours to write this and I'm kinda proud. Don't kill me, yeah? Thanks!  
> x~Al


	10. Finally, an almost long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me so long to write this, like 3 days in class and then 5 hours today. But, yeah, hope you like it.

Chapter 10   
The next morning I wake to the smell of coffee and a lack of arms around me. I hear the shower running next door, but I don't hear Gee singing, so he's probably not in yet. I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Despite being passed out for hours yesterday, I'm exhausted. Gee's probably in the kitchen, so I stand and walk out the door and down the hall. As I'm walking I hear Gee humming from the kitchen, and it sets butterflies off in my stomach. I smile brightly, almost anxious to see him. The warm feeling in my chest only increases as I turn the corner into the corner, seeing his taller figure leaning against the counter by the coffee maker. Gee hears me enter and turns to me, smiling widely. He opens his arms and walks toward me. I grin and click my lip ring against my teeth, letting joy practically radiate off me. 

"Morning, love," I say quietly, letting him wrap his slender arms around me. 

"Morning, Frankie," he whispers into my hair. He squeezes me tightly, but pulls back and looks me eye. "Do you remember...uh...what you said yesterday?" 

I blush, but only for a moment. I feel a rush of emotion, and for some reason, tears stinging my eyes. I swallow the lump formed in my throat and nod, answering, "Yeah. Yeah, I, uh...yeah." 

"Did you mean it?" 

"Yes," I answer immediately, surprising myself. My heart pounds; I anxiously await his response. Gee looks me straight in my eyes, searching for hesitation or doubt, a lie, maybe even. Finding no sign of lie, he smiles widely and kisses me softy, but almost greedily all the same. He brings me into a tight hug afterwards, rocking us side-to-side slightly. 

"I love you too Frankie. God, I love you," he murmurs near my ear. We pull apart a moment later, both of us smiling, euphoria and pure joy running through our veins. Gee looks away, awkwardly dropping his hands from where they had still rested on my shoulders. I search his face for regret, doubt, but find nothing but joy. 

Cool. 

"I'm gonna take a shower," he says, turning to walk down the hall to his bathroom. 

"Mind if I join you?" I retort sarcastically."No, seriously, though, I need to shower, and we're already late." 

Gee sighs, "Yeah, hurry up, shortstuff," he laughs.   
-  
Gee pulls into the parking lot at the school, singing along to the song on the radio. I watched him sing the whole way here, falling more in love with him the whole time. 

The things that change in two days, huh? 

I borrowed a pair of Gee's old, black skinny jeans that fit a bit too big on me and a black t-shirt. I tug on the loose part of the jeans around my knees. I'll be pulling them up all day. I sigh and lift my hips, attempting to pull and keep the jeans higher up on my waist. I hear Gee's breath hitch and glance at his fingers, which are white from his tightened grip on the wheel. 

Did I do that? I'm curious...

I lift my hips again, pretending to fix the jeans again. He sucks in a breath, steeling himself. I grin again and bite my lip, looking straight at him. 

"Okay, I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or anything, Frankie, but that has to be the hottest thing I've ever seen," Gee says, almost moaning. I smirk smugly as he pulls into his parking spot. He turns the car off and pulls his bag over his lap in a bad attempt to hide his little problem. 

Big problem, actually. 

I giggle at his discomfort. In a rush of confidence I say, "I'd help you with that. Really, I would. But first, I've never actually done it, and second, we're at school," Gee stares at me dubiously. I start to apologize, embarrassed, but Gee interrupts me. 

"Woah, woah, woah, wait. Wait. You've never..." he gestures crudely. I choke out a laugh and blush, shaking my head. "Not even...by yourself?" 

"No, I...never thought about it, I guess," I say. He shakes his head, opening the door and clambering out clumsily. 

"I'm gonna have to fix that for you one day, Frankie."   
-  
The classes leading up to lunch felt like the longest I've ever had to sit through. I almost sprinted to lunch before I realized that I probably wouldn't be able to actually talk to Gee. 

Damn it. 

I run into my friend Jordan on the way to lunch. He just nods silently at my greeting. Jordan doesn't talk to many people, really only to me and a couple of our other friends, and even then it's rare. 

Jordan has, however, known me since eighth grade, so he's been my closest friend throughout all my relationships, and knows what I look like and how I act when I'm in a relationship. Apparently, I'm being obvious about it, because I'm only walking with him for a moment before he comments on it. 

"Who is he?"he murmurs. I glance at him, wondering if I can trust him. 

"Mr. Way," I reply, deciding he wouldn't tell anyone. Jordan surprises me by jumping into the air, pumping his fist victoriously. "What the fuck? What?" I choke out with a laugh. 

"Fucking finally! You guys have been dancing around each other for so long, it's ridiculous you haven't done this already. I've been waiting on you guys for ages." 

I freeze, halting him by putting a hand on his chest,"Is this, like, everyone? Or just you?"

"Just me, I think. I've been really observant, almost too observant. For example," he smirks at me,"those are definitely not your jeans." 

I loop my fingers in my -no, Gee's- jeans and pull them up a bit, shrugging. "I was at his house, mom brought shitty clothes over, it happens," I comment off-handedly. Jordan laughs loudly. We walk into the lunch room silently, bracing ourselves for the hell that is a high school lunch period. Our small group if friends await us at our regular table, but before we can head over to it my head starts to pound and Jordan, as well as the rest of the room, start to spin. I grab Jordan's arm. "You won't say anything, will you?" I hiss at him. 

"Of course not, dude, chill. It's fine," he says. I nod vaguely, feeling a rush if affection for Jordan. I suddenly realize how much we've done, how close we are. 

He's my best friend, and as cheesy as it sounds, I'd trust him with my life.

Or even more importantly, Gee's. 

I sit across from him at our table. "So how did this even start?" he asks. 

I explain everything that happened this past weekend, excluding the shower part for Gee's sake. It took a ton of trust in me for him to even tell me, he would feel betrayed if I went spilling his secret to anyone else, even to my best friend. He laughs loudly, drawing some attention when we get to the flour fight part. When I'm finished he nods and comments, "So that's how you got the shiner." I reach a hand up to my eye. 

"Yeah," I sigh. I had honestly forgotten about it; I hadn't even looked in the mirror after getting out of the shower, only needing Gee's assurance that I looked great.   
I spot Gee over Jordan's shoulder, leaning against the wall, staring at me. My chest grows warm with feeling, and I go a bit light-headed. 

"Fuck," I breathe and clear my throat awkwardly when I realize that I'm staring back. I look away, anywhere but at Gee, but I catch a glimpse of him laughing into his coffee. 

"You need to learn to be discreet, dumbass," Jordan whispers. I grin at him. 

The rest of lunch is spent talking about normal boy things, except slightly more gay. Jordan talks about his boyfriend, who graduated last year and is going to college, while I talk about Gee. 

My English teacher. 

How weird is this? 

The bell rings, signaling our re-entrance into hell. Jordan makes comical comment on how he finally has someone to talk to about dating an older guy. I laugh and wave a goodbye. I walk with the sea of teens towards my English class. Excitement bubbles in my stomach, I'll finally get to talk to him. It feels like forever, even though it's only been a few hours. 

A hand settles on my shoulder, startling me. I lean into it, though, when I realize it's attached to the most amazing human being I've ever met. 

Wow, I'm fucking whipped. 

I keep walking, but lean into him enough so that my shoulder brushes his chest. 

"We have a ton of work to do today, shortstuff. Your essay writing for this unit starts today. I know you have trouble with essays, so don't overwhelm yourself. The minute you feel overwhelmed you tell me, yeah?" he whispers. I nod and try to look serious, but I'm freaking out a bit on the inside. We stop outside his classroom and he turns to face me next to the door. "Promise me." 

"Gee," I mumble, avoiding the awkward eyes of the streams of people passing by. 

"Promise me, Frankie." 

"I promise," I sigh, blushing. He leans in like he's going to kiss me, causing butterflies to kick up again, but realized where we are and wraps me up in what was probably supposed to look like a "manly" hug. He pounds me on the back twice before drawing back, smiling apologetically. He turns on his heel and walks into the classroom. I take a deep breath, calming the butterflies, I suppose, and follow Gee into the classroom.

Gee strides around the classroom, handing out essay prompts. As he gets closer to my desk my stomach starts to turn, and not because he's smiling brightly at me. 

I said I hated essays. That they trip me up. I wasn't lying, they do, but it left out one important detail.   
Essays don't just trip me up. They give me anxiety attacks. 

I swallow heavily, sending Gee a panicked look. He catches it, bless him, and quickly passes the rest of the prompts out. My chest starts to tighten, my breathing grows heavy, and I barely notice when Gee helps me stand and places his hand on the small of my back. He says something I don't catch as he guides me out of the room. 

We stumble out of the classroom and down the hallway to the teachers' lounge. As soon as we're in I fall out of Gee's hold onto the floor. I sit with my knees pulled up to me chest, my head tucked into them. I feel myself start to cry, but stifle my tears as best I can. I feel him sit next to me and slings an arm over my shoulder. He pulls me closer into him, tucking me into his side. 

"You're okay, Frankie. I'm here, you're okay," Gee whispers. I take deep breaths and focus on Gee, trying to clear my mind, which works better than I expected. He presses a kiss to my shoulder, rubbing slow circles into my shoulder. 

I'm surprised to hear the bell ring as I come out of my attack. How long had we been here?   
"I have to go back. Are you ready, or do you want to stay here for a bit?" Gee asks. I just stand, letting panic leave my senses. He does as well, steadying me and holding me a bit closer than what would be normal for a student/teacher relationship.

He pauses, looking down at me. He thinking, trying to remember something, I can tell. He's ridiculously adorable and amazingly beautiful in this moment. I take a mental picture. 

Gee smiles down at me gleefully. He kisses me lightly and quickly. I smile up at him and step back, wiping wetness off my face. 

"Thank you."  
-  
The last period of the day passes uneventfully. Gee and I text back and forth whenever he's not helping a student. 

TO: GEE  
Thanks for that. Again. 

FROM: GEE  
No problem, love. 

TO: GEE  
I love you. 

FROM: GEE  
I love you more. X 

TO: GEE  
No way. 

FROM: GEE  
Yes, Way, shortstuff. Hahaha see what I did there? 

I chuckle quietly and bite my lip, glancing over at him. He's looking straight ahead at the class, grinning smugly. I type out a message, deleting and rewriting the message four times before finally sending it. 

TO:GEE  
Take me home? 

I watch Gee pick up his phone and beam at the message out of the corner of my eye. He turns to me instead of answering, love plain on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, there's some exciting, confusing things coming up. Leave me a comment!  
> (Also sorry for any obvious errors. I rushed through this.)  
> x~Al


	11. Frank loses his memory at the worst time humanly fucking possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short, probably confusing chapter because I'm a terrible person. Explanation at the end.  
> x~Al

I groan, frustrated, wondering if slamming my head onto my dining table would cause permanent damage. Gee laughs next to me. 

"You're doing fine, Frankie," he says, resting a warm hand on my arm. "You only have two paragraphs left, and this isn't due until Thursday." 

I shoot him my best puppy-dog look again. '"Can we take a break? Please?" 

"Fine," he sighs, supplying a rueful yet adorable smile. We start to head to my living room, but the phone rings before we go far. 

"I'll be right there. Put something on, get comfortable, naked, if you want," I wink at him jokingly, admiring his amused grin. I pick up the receiver, almost dropping it when I feel Gee's arms sliding around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder. I roll my eyes at him and answer the phone. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, mom."

"I just called to tell you I left some food in the microwave for you." 

"Oh? You not coming home?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, dear. I have to work practically 24 hours a day 'til Thursday. I'm gonna sleep and shower and everything at the hospital, it's easier. I texted Mr. Way, he'll be staying at the house until I'm home." 

I resist the urge to inform my mom that by the way Gee is not-so-subtly rolling his hips up into mine I can tell he's already enjoying his stay. 

This man will be the death of me. 

"Yeah, he's already here. When will you be home on Thursday?"

"I dunno, probably super late. See you then?"

"Yeah, of course. Love you."

"You, too."

I turn around to face Gee, who is pressed close against me. He smiles at me, excitement shining in his eyes blindingly. 

"Did I hear that right?" he asks, voice low. He trails his fingers up and down my arms, giving me chills and, for some reason, causing my dick to twitch deceivingly. 

"Yeah. Three days to ourselves."

"Does that mean I can..." he trails off, but gestures crudely again, making me laugh. His eyes are bright but uncertain, like he's afraid of my answer. My heart swells for him, knowing he's grown to care about me more than anything, even in the few days we've been together. 

"Gee," I murmur, resting our foreheads together, "yes. Eventually. Just not today. I kinda wanna try something," I whisper uncertainly. 

"Whatever you want, Frankie."

"Okay, let's go," I mumble, leading him down the hall identical to his, into my, bedroom identical to his guest room. We sit awkwardly, cross-legged on my small bed. I look down at my hands shyly, but peek up at him. "I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing." 

"Oh! Oh, right, I forgot. Um... what do you want to do?" 

I shrug, looking back down, not sure how to say it. "I, uh...I want... to... um..." I trail off, blushing, but look up into Gee's hazel eyes when he reaches out and rests his hand on my knee.

"Frank, if you're afraid of me judging you, laughing at you, then you're wrong. I'm actually proud of you, you're being really brave. I hate to ask, love, but are you even comfortable with this? Because you don't have to do this if you're not ready. I understand," At his words I feel a rush of emotion: nerves, guilt, fear, but most of all love, an immense amount. Tears sting my eyes, and I try to hide my face in my hands. Failing miserably of course. What could I possibly hide from Gee? "Oh, Frankie, what's wrong?"

"I just, I love you. I love you because you care and you're careful, almost too careful, and you're not just out for sex, you don't want to hurt me, and we've been... this for two days and I love you and it doesn't make any sense," I babble on, embarrassed. I finally look up at him, surprised to see his eyes rimmed with tears as well. He lies down, pulling me down with him, half on top of him. However awkward it is is negated by how close we are, how the need to be close is more important than the need to be comfortable. We lay like this until I'm ready to talk. 

"It may be weird, hypocritical, whatever the hell you wanna call it, but I want to try with you. Not just in a relationship kind of way. I know that you want... a physical relationship. Even if you haven't said it. I'm comfortable with you, I think. I want to try with you," Gee's dubious look causes me to nod at him seriously. "Really. I want to do this. Just not all at once." 

He stares at me for a moment before slowly reaching down and fumbling with the hem of my shirt. I sit up and slip it off, watching as he does the same. I watch myself unconsciously place my trembling hands on his chest. 

"You're beautiful," I murmur. I brush his messy hair out of his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he whispers back. He reaches his hand out, and he could touch me anywhere, my chest, shoulders, anywhere, but he cups my face. I push him gently down onto the bed, feeling awkward about it, but I don't really give a fuck anymore. I kiss him slowly, tentatively. Gee places both hands at the small of my back so he can pull me down on top of him. I trail light kisses down his jaw, then neck, but pause at his collarbone. I look up at him warily, uncertain. He only nods and runs a reassuring hand through my hair. Even with his reassurance I hesitate; my stomach turns and I suck in a nervous breath. Sensing my nerves, reaching up and placing his hand on my chest, directly over my heart. 

"I trust you, Frank, I always have, I always will, now it's your turn to trust you," Gee whispers. I nod slowly and take a deep breath. 

I go back to lightly kissing his neck, slowly working my way down to gain confidence. In a rush of confidence, and probably instinct, I bite his collarbone lightly, grinning and repeating it after he gasps and arches his back. 

"You sure this is your first time?"

I grin at him, admiring his lust-blown eyes, black as the night. I lean back over him, kissing his lips, then down his jaw and neck. I sneakily reach down with one hand, undoing his pants fairly quickly, surprising myself and him. 

I blame instinct, of course. It takes me twice as long, at least, to undo my own pants. 

"What?" I ask Gee innocently after seeing his reaction.

"That's impossible, there is no way you haven't done that before," he growls at me, rolling his hips up into where my hand hovers over the growing bulge in his jeans. 

"I guess I'm a natural," I shrug. 

"For an ace kid, you're almost suspiciously good at this." 

"Instinct, love," I slowly pull his zipper down and watch his already lust-black eyes go blacker. I hook my fingers in his jeans and briefs, but I hesitate again, looking back up at Gee for reassurance. 

"Go, Frank. I trust you." 

I nod, steel myself, and pull his remaining clothes down to his knees. His hands fidget down towards his nakedness, but not like he wants to cover himself. Probably the opposite, actually. 

"Don't... um... sorry if this isn't... great, I-" 

"I don't care, Frankie, this is perfect for us, for you, just do something," Gee almost moans as his hands fidget down toward his dick again. I tentatively take it in my hand, curiously running my hand around it. I'm not surprised when he arches his back again, but I marvel at the power I know hold. 

Literally.

I place a gentle kiss to his lips as I start to stroke him. Our lips brush as he gasps and moans with my strokes; I can tell he's coming close as he gets louder, gripping my sheets in his fingers. He moans my name when he releases, burying his face into my chest. 

It was slow. It was clumsy and new. But it was perfect. 

-  
Minutes later, I lay with him, listening to Gee's breathing. We're facing each other, and I can feel his stare on me, but I don't look at him. 

"Frankie?" I ignore it at first, resorting to staring at the small space between us. "Frank," he says, sternly this time, his ever-present teacher voice making an appearance. I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of anger. Dread pools in my stomach. Something feels off, but I can't figure out what. "What's wrong?" 

I start to talk without even realizing what I'm saying. When I'm finished, I can't remember what I had said, but I can tell it wasn't anything good. Gee is looking at me with shock and pain etched into his features. 

"Gee, I-"

"Don't. Just don't," he snarls. He turns away from me to face the wall. 

And even though my bed is fairly small, even though Gee's form is lying close beside mine, even though he lets me wrap my arm around him, there is something between us, dread is still pooled in my stomach, and I've never felt so cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is rushed and bad. I'm sorry!!!  
> So the next chapter will explain what's going on between them. But let's talk about the THING. So, umm... the easiest way I can explain this, (if you're confused), is that asexuality is lack of sexual attraction. Also, even if Frank doesn't want to have sex, or anything else, he wants Gee to be happy, and even if Gee hasn't voiced it, he does want some kind of physical relationship. So yeah. Comment if you have more questions. Thanks for reading!  
> x~Al


	12. I have to update the characters because I decided to write Mikey into this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like 2 weeks late and I'm sorry...oh well.  
> Also, if some of this (mainly anything toward the end) sounds weird, I was sick this past week or so, so I wasn't really in a great state of mind.  
> More stuff at the end HAVE FUN AND ILY  
> also TRIGGER WARNING there's some bad stuff in this chapter and I'm sorry. Self-harm and blood.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> ~Al

Gee is gone when I wake up. I check every room in the house, even my mom's. I start to panic, remembering how upset he was yesterday, but I spot a note with his all-capital writing sprawled over it before I freak out too much. 

I KNOW YOU'RE WONDERING, SO YEAH, IM MAD. I WENT HOME TO GET CLOTHES. I'LL BE BACK TO PICK YOU UP. I LOVE YOU, THOUGH. NO MATTER WHAT. 

The note was obviously written carefully. There are erased smudges and scratched out bits. Even after I was the one to make him upset, he wants me to be okay. 

God, how I love him. 

I know he needs space after whatever I said to him, so I'm not surprised when I don't feel anger, but a swell of sympathy instead. 

Shit, I need to shower.

I subconsciously take a blade I was probably supposed to use to replace my razor out of the packet and take it with me into the shower. I don't even realize what I'm doing, what I'm about to do, until the blade is a centimeter from my thigh, and by then it's too late. As I drag the blade across my skin I think of the last thing, the last person I should think about while doing this. I think of Gee, of his face last night, of how upset, how sad, how pained he looked after my words. I hurt him, and I hate myself for it. I love him, but I hurt him, and I shouldn't have, but I don't know what I said, and that, that is what's really killing me. 

I hurt Gee. 

The shower curtain is ripped to the side by someone, not my mom, of course, so I know the only person it could be. I don't let myself think it's him. There are nine wounds on my thighs, five and four. I try to cover myself, but not my naked self; I try to cover my shame, my legs, the one thing that only one other person knows about. 

Because I'm an open book, really, but everyone has their secrets. Even me. I've got two, and my best kept secret is out now, it's out to my other secret, my other half, the one thing that matters the most. And for some reason, my secret is, in this moment, the cause of my other secret, and it's killing me to know that. 

But what can I do about it? At the moment absolutely nothing. Because I know that if Gee wanted, he could tell me to off myself, or worse, to off him, and I would obey in a millisecond. 

He would never want that, though, and I think at this point, that's what's keeping me alive. 

He turns the shower off and hands me a towel, a darkly dyed one, to hide the stains. He's done this before, and that hurts worse than the blade ever will. He pushes me forward a bit, just enough so that he can climb into the tub around me and wrap his arms around my torso. The blade had fallen out of my hand when the curtain had been pulled, but he picks it up from the bottom of the shower and throws it into the toilet next to the shower without jostling me too much. 

"You're okay, love, I'm here," Gee murmurs into my ear. 

-  
"Why?" Gee asks carefully. We're sitting across from each other at my dining room table, much like we were yesterday, but also much farther away. I still have the towel in my hands. Something to hold, I suppose, since Gee hadn't even spoken to me since he had bandaged me up, let alone touched me. 

God knows after whatever I said last night we aren't going to be that close for awhile. 

"I don't know-"

"Then what do you know?" He shouts angrily at me. He curses under his breath, then mutters, "I'm sorry." 

"I really don't know," he looks up at me incredulously. "I was just gonna take a shower. I didn't even realize I had the blade." 

There's silence for awhile. There are too many 'I'm sorry's hanging in the air. From both of us. We're both being incredibly too hard on ourselves for this, but instead of realizing that, we just brainwash ourselves into thinking we're actually being too hard on each other. 

We're dysfunctional and unhealthy. We've never had to do something like this before, we don't know how to operate, but that's the common denominator. Besides how we feel towards each other, ignoring chemistry for a minute, this is why we're here. 

Neither of know if this is a secret we can keep, but we do know that if we can't, we're going down together. Because that's what this is about, right? Love, being loved, and not caring about the consequences. It's completely reckless, but that's how we work, and I'd even go so far as to say it's the definition of our relationship. 

I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but I'm okay with that. At least for now.

"You were screaming."

I look up from the towel to see his tear-filled eyes. He's trying to hide it, looking down into his coffee mug, but a tear had already escaped and his chest shuddered with hardly-repressed sobs. 

"I-I was?"

"You were screaming 'I'm sorry". You screamed nine times," Gee says. Another tear slides down his cheek. 

"I hurt you," I mumbled. 

"That's true. You didn't have to hurt yourself." 

"I don't...I don't remember what I said. Yesterday, I mean. What did I say?" 

"Y-you said you weren't good enough. That I deserve b-better," Gee mutters. The air seems to crackle with tension, but I'm more confused than anything. 

"Why would that hurt you?"

"Because it's not true! Because you were perfect and you always will be! Because the first thing I thought after you said that I deserve better was that I don't, that no one can," he shouts at me. He's crying now, hysterical. He stands and stalks over to me, dragging me to a standing position by the collar of my shirt. "You are perfect, you hear me? Perfect. And don't you even begin to think otherwise," he whispers to me. For a moment I think he's furious, that he'll leave again, but he kisses me sweetly on the forehead, and we both relax into it. "I called the school. We're not going in. I told them you were sick." 

"I'm fine." 

"Doesn't matter. You're stressed out, you need rest. I don't want you over-stressing yourself." 

"What about your classes?"

"What about my classes?" He mutters as he walks away, stalking around the corner like a predator. 

-  
The morning consisted of breakfast and my essay. Gee didn't talk much, only answering my questions and drinking all the coffee in my house. He cooked breakfast for us while I sit on the counter. I'm not really allowed to, but I do anyway when my mom isn't home. I sing quietly under my breath while he cooks. 

"Do you play guitar?"

"Sorry?" 

"Do you play guitar?" He asks, facing me with two plates of food in his hands. 

"I-well, yeah, but I don't have one anymore. It got stolen," I answer. I'm glad he's talking again, I hate silence; silence from him, anyway. His eyes shine brightly and he beams at me. 

Shit. He has an idea.

"I'm gonna buy you a guitar." 

-  
We walk hand-in-hand down the street to the little music store. Gee lets go of my hand when we pass the school, but when we turn the corner he grabs it again. He brings our interlocked fingers to his lips. 

"I love you, Frankie," he mumbles. He kisses my knuckles softly. I smile at him. 

"You, too." 

As we walk into the music store Gee curls his arm around my waist. 

"Mikey!" He calls out. I glance around the store, admiring the guitars hanging on the wall to our left. I nude Gee, asking for permission to approach the wall. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna go back and find Mikey. Pick one, but, like, don't pick a super expensive one, yeah?" 

"Of course," I smile at him. We detach, Gee heading towards the back of the store, me heading to the beautifully decorated wall. 

There are electric and acoustic guitars here, basses a bit farther down. There are tons of ugly ones, patterned and weirdly colored, but the number of ugly guitars is heavily outweighed by the number of really, really beautiful ones. There's one that stands out, just an ordinary acoustic guitar, but I don't touch it. It might be more expensive than it looks. I'm not sure why this one stands out, it's a regular old guitar, there are probably hundreds like it, but it caught my attention almost right away.

"Acoustic, huh? You look more like an electric guy to me," someone says behind me. I don't turn to look, I'm too busy staring at the guitar, as if it'll run away. 

"I play both, actually, but I like acoustic more." 

"Mikey! I was looking for you," I hear Gee say from behind me. I'm still looking at that damn guitar, examining the strings now. I realize it's strangely quiet behind me, so I turn to look at Gee and the new voice.

"What?"

"You've been staring at that guitar for three minutes." 

"Oh." 

Gee and the man share a look. I didn't notice before, but as much as they're different, they're shockingly similar. They hold themselves the same way, although Gee stands a bit more femininely. Their eyes hold the same bright, mischievous light. They must be related. 

Gee clears his throat. "Frank, this is Mikey. He's my-"

"Brother, right? I can tell," I hold my hand out for Mikey to shake, which he accepts happily. 

"You can tell? How?" Mikey asks quizzically, tilting his head to the side. Somehow that simple action makes him look even more like Gee. 

"Well, I guess you hold yourselves the same way," I explain. At their confused stares, I say, "you, um, you kinda hold yourselves loosely, try to look confident, like you don't care, because that's how you want people want to see you. But you hunch your shoulders when you think people aren't watching and you take a deep breath when you start talking to someone, anyone, no matter who it is or how long you've known them. Your insecurities are outweighed by you not wanting people to think you're insecure." 

They both stare at me blankly, as if I had turned their black-and-white into Technicolor. Mikey blows a low whistle. The brothers turn to each other, doing some brotherly telepathic communication shit. 

"Are we gonna do something? Or are you two just gonna continue to telepathically communicate while I can only stand here and guess what you're saying?" I bite sarcastically. 

"I was just wondering if you and Gerard-" 

"Okay, am I not allowed to call you Gerard, because holy fuck, everybody else does," I joke. Gerard just grins. 

"Yeah, whatever, Gee's just easier. And to answer your question, Mikey, yeah, we're together." 

"He looks young," Mikey comments. He walks around to the guitar I had been staring at and takes it down carefully. He offers it to me, grinning slightly, and I accept gratefully. There's a stool set off to the side, which I carefully head over to, carefully avoiding anything I could bang it on. I strum a few chords, but I hear Gee start talking again in the background. 

"He's a student, Mikey." 

I don't see Mikey swing at Gerard, but I definitely hear bones crunch under his fist. 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Mikey's here...and he's not happy. Umm, this chapter might be weird, and it's really late, so sorry.  
> I start band camp in like a week. Boo. So I won't have as much time to write, and I'll definitely be updating less. I'll try my best, though. I know lots of you love this story, so I'll write whenever I can.  
> Leave me a comment of what you think, and thanks for reading!  
> ~Al


	13. Lucky chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO, MY LOVES  
> This is so, so late, and I'm so, so sorry.  
> I've been sick, and on vacation, and busy with band.  
> Busy, but that's no excuse.  
> I wrote this chapter last week, but couldn't find time to type it up, and rereading it I realized that the last part was really bad. So I lobbed it off, making this chapter considerably shorter. Sorry.  
> Hopefully this isn't completely horrible.  
> Umm…yeah. Enjoy

Mikey was out of the shop before I could even stand. Gerard stood frozen with one hand clutched to his nose and the other braced against the wall, holding his balance. 

There weren't any words for awhile. Gerard sniffled a bit, but he didn't cry. I found a box of tissues under the cash register. I handed two to Gerard before backing away squeamishly. 

Gerard stands three feet away, now, leaning against the wall and holding a mostly-blood-soaked tissue to his face. He's staring at me in disbelief, and I already know what he's gonna say next. 

"Frank, you self-harm," he deadpans, and his lips curve into a small grin. I send a frustrated glare in his direction and rest a nervous hand on my thigh. 

"I know, it's just...it's different with other people. Other people's blood makes me..." I trail off, let the visible shivers that run down my back tell the rest of the tale. At that, he walks over to me, saunters, even, and leans over me, mischief gleaming in his hazel eyes. 

"Ah, no, Gee. Gerard, don't," I whine, leaning away from him. "Seriously, don't, I'll kill you." 

He kisses me sweetly on the forehead,"It's just a little blood, Frankie." 

"Fuck you," I mumble, looking away in embarrassment. He takes my chin between his thumb and the crook of his first finger. He tilts my head up towards his, resting his forehead on mine. 

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," he murmurs. I wriggle away again. Gerard raises his eyebrows in surprise, his face inches from mine, but he backs off when I shake my head in vague discomfort. He huffs and backs away, leaning against the wall again. 

I cross my arms over my chest, hands resting on opposite shoulders. I inwardly recognize the motion as me trying to cover myself. I used to do this whenever I was uncomfortable at a party or school, or even at home. 

But more recently, it was a sign that I was about to have a panic attack. 

I run this morning through my mind, trying to recall if and when I took my meds. 

I hadn't. 

"G-gee," I stutter, trying to get his attention. He stares at the ground near his feet, stubbornly ignoring me. I dig the tips of my fingers deeper into my shoulders. My chest starts to tighten and I forcibly resist the urge to groan miserably. I manage to squeak out a strangled, "Gerard!" before the world goes wobbly. 

The world around me is blurred with tears. I feel my hands drop from my shoulders to my collarbones where my fingers continue to dig in painfully. I feel pressure between my shoulder blades and again on my ribs. Gerard's hands, I realize, holding me upright and close to him. The door to the store creaks open behind him, and a light voice curses quietly. 

"Mikey, do you have your meds here?" Gerard shouts at Mikey, urgently, but not unkindly. 

I feel myself fading out of panic. Gerard's voice becomes slowly clearer, calmly leading me out of the attack. He tenderly wipes tears from my cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over them until I sniff loudly and blink back at him. My hands fall heavily from my collarbones to his wrists, and I squeeze them in reassurance. 

"I'm okay now. Thank you," I mumble bleakly. He brings my knuckles to his lips, then releases my hands and wraps his arms around me. He rests one hand on the middle of my back, the other on the back of my head, cradling me to his shoulder. We're only like this for a few moments, and, unlike before, I'm completely comfortable, and I know I'd be content to stay like this forever. 

When the hell did I become such a fucking sap? I guess the right person just does that to you. 

Gerard and I both hear footsteps headed in our direction from the back of the store. We pull apart, and I send a grateful smile at him. I don't know if I'm surprised to see his eyes light up just from that smile. We turn to see Mikey watching us with guarded eyes. 

"I-I brought my meds," he mumbles, almost numbly, but if Gerard notices, he pretends to be oblivious. Mikey hands him the little bottle and backs away to lean against a shelf nearby, looking away. Gerard hesitates, turning to look at Mikey with concern before turning back to me. 

"They're the same as yours. I told you I know the stuff."

-  
After I apologized to Mikey for what had to be the hundredth time for taking his meds, Mikey locked up the store and drove is back to Gerard's house. We trudge through the the door and into the kitchen, where Gerard starts a pot of coffee. I jump up onto the counter next to him and Mikey leans against the wall across from us. Gerard seems oblivious to the awkward tension in the room, humming along to whatever song he had stuck in his head. 

The silence doesn't last long. 

"How long have you been on the meds?" Mikey throws the question into the air between us. I blink at him. 

"Three years. I was fourteen." 

"What happened?"

"What?" I ask, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

"Did you have an attack at school?"

"Yeah. Three, actually."

"Freshman year?"

"Y-yes. How did you-"

"I was a senior. Word gets around." 

I nod solemnly. Even now, almost three years later, people send nervous glances my way during finals. 

Before essays, it was tests. I missed three finals freshman year. I basically sprinted from the room as soon as the teacher started to hand out the test. 

I couldn't handle tests, even in grade school. It was easy to control when I was younger, but when I hit high school, I couldn't do it anymore. The teachers constantly told us that colleges look at everything, that we have to be careful with our grades or we'll never succeed in life. 

Eventually I realized that it doesn't even fucking matter. I'm not expecting to live very long after high school, anyway. 

The only reason essays affect me so badly is because they're almost personal. Tests, for the most part, are emotionless, bubbled in answers, and as much as essays are similar, they hold a key difference. 

You write essays. In your own words. 

Teachers judge your writing. Your words. Your skill at describing boring, monotonous theme every few weeks. 

Which is way too damn personal for my taste. 

A new silence begins and lasts another four minutes (which is, admittedly, shorter than I expected it to last) before Mikey speaks again, this time to Gerard. 

"Are you fucking him?" 

Gerard and I both took a sip of our coffee as Mikey started to speak, and we both choke on it in response to Mikey's abrupt question. Mikey stares at us as we splutter, patiently awaiting his answer, but I think I caught a quick grin twist his lips as he was watching, so quickly I could've imagined it. 

"N-no! No, we h-haven't...we don't..."

"I'm ace!" I blurt out quickly, surprising even myself. 

"Oh," Mikey says. "Me, too."

We smile happily at each other, and simultaneously raise our coffee cups to each other in silent recognition, almost as if it was an instinct. Gerard only glances between the two of us and scoffs in amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FEEL LIKE THIS IS REALLY SHITTY BUT I PROMISE IM WORKING ON IT  
> I've just had the worst writers block lately.  
> Please leave me a comment, I live off feedback.  
> Ily guys. Like a lot.  
> Stay safe <3  
> ~Al


	14. I've been gone for 6 months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone so long.

**Jordan** |Frank 

* * *

 

We eventually migrate to the living room, where Gee grabs the remote and stretches out across the couch. Mikey claims the armchair next to the couch and I lift Gee's head and sit, resting his head back down onto my lap. I look over Gee's body, sprawled across the couch with one leg up on the back. He looks impossibly young, almost a teenager. 

He looks up at me. "What?"

"You look like a kid, Gerard."

He looks down the couch at his body and shrugs. "It's my house." 

I huff a laugh and lean down to kiss his forehead. He blushes, I notice, and I feel my face form a confused expression. Gee nods toward his feet. I blush crimson when I notice Mikey watching us, and Mikey's face is the color of a damn fire truck, of course, all while animal planet hums in the background. 

Lovely.

"Sorry, eh, it'll take awhile to get used to that," Mikey runs a hand through his hair. Gee and I just nod. 

Mikey's phone dings and he jumps, hesitating before grabbing his phone from his pocket. The message doesn't seem to surprise him, but he smiles as he types out a reply. 

"Was that Pete?" Gerard asks. Mikey's grin turns into a glare.

"Gerard," he warns. Gerard just sticks his tongue out at him and looks up at me to explain. 

"Pete is Mikey's almost boyfriend," Gee tells me. 

"He is not," Mikey grumbles in exasperation. Gee grins up at me mischieviously. 

Shit. 

Gerard sits up slowly, casually, while Mikey types out another reply. Then he lunges at Mikey out of nowhere, grabbing the phone out of his hand before he can react. He falls to the ground, seemingly uninjured, and begins to read Mikey's texts aloud. 

"I could use some company," he reads, then waggles his eyebrows. The hand not holding the phone is on Mikey's chest, preventing him from getting the phone back. 

"Gerard, stop, please!" Mikey yells, but Gee starts to read another message, and the look on Mikey's face is what finally makes me put my foot down. 

"That's enough, Gerard," I say firmly. Gee stops reading abruptly; his crooked, playful smile turns into a frown. He tosses the phone onto the couch and storms past us, bumping into me roughly as he passes. Mikey and I listen to his footsteps and the inexplicable slam of his door. 

"I'm sorry, he gets like this sometimes," Mikey sighs. I nod.

"I know. I'm sorry about your messages."

"It's fine, he's right anyway. I need to talk to Pete about this." 

* * *

 

Mikey and I watch TV until ten o'clock. I walk across the street to my house alone. Do some homework until eleven and then wander to bed. I have no clue what I'll do tomorrow, but there's nothing I can do to change what happened tonight.

* * *

 

The next morning I text Jordan as I'm getting ready. 

Hey, wanna meet at school? 

**Sure, meet me by the library.**

I finish getting ready quickly. I leave home much earlier than usual. 

Gee's mad, or else he would've texted me, or if he were feeling especially apologetic, called. 

But he didn't. Then again, neither did I. 

I spot Jordan leaning against the library wall. He's reading, of course, but looks up at my call. 

"Hey," I say, smiling. He smiles back, then frowns in what looks like concern. 

"What happened?" he asks. 

"Yesterday? I had-" 

"No, I mean what's wrong?"

I blink at him, amazed. "He's mad at me." 

"Jesus Christ, Frank." 

"I know, I  _know,_ but it's not my fault." 

"He's your fucking teacher, Frank."

I don't reply. I know what he's thinking and he's right. I have to deal with him for two classes today. This whole thing was a bad idea. Jordan leans his head against the wall, thinking, and I watch him. 

Jordan's my best friend. Has been forever. I shouldn't be surprised when he reads my mind. He's a genius, and without him, a lot of me, my personality, wouldn't exist. 

"How's the boyfriend?" I ask. He smiles, eyes closed. 

"David? Good. Happy." 

"Good. He's a great guy." 

"I know."

We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. Jordan seems to still be thinking.

"He asked me to marry him."

My eyes go wide and my face cracks into a huge grin.

"No shit?!"

"No shit, man," he smiles back. 

"Did you say yes?!" 

"Of course I did," he mumbles. I hook an arm around his waist and pull him into a hug. 

We talk for another hour, about weddings and marriage and families. The bell rings then, and we go our separate ways, waving a quick goodbye. I walk to my first period happily, thoughts yesterday forgotten, at least for now.

I actually whistle as I walk to my first period. Nothing can ruin my mood.

Except for the sight of Gerard standing in front of the door to my classroom, no sign of my teacher anywhere. We lock eyes, but as a group of students pass between us I turn around the corner I just came from. I know he saw me, but I am hell bent on not seeing him until fifth period, maybe even later. 

I turn down the music hall, heading to the classroom I'm certain will be unlocked but empty, but stop when I see someone I recognize. He's looking down at his papers and his back is to me but I'm sure it's him. I risk calling out to him.

"Mikey!" I shout as quietly as I can. He turns at his name, a look of surprise barely registering on his face before it's replaced by recognition. 

"Hey, what's up?" he says to me, hugging me. It takes me by surprise but I don't show it. I hug him back, then step back and smile at him, rubbing my arm in embarrassment. 

"I'm, uh, skipping class," I mumble. "Gerard's subbing for my first period." 

Mikey smiles in understanding. "Come on. You can help me with this repair." He turns and walks in the other direction as he speaks, and I take a moment to smile brightly at his back before following. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda like this chapter. Also I figured out italics and stuff.   
> If you have an idea for this story of love to hear it. Leave me comment!


	15. I'm sorry

First of all, thank all of you who have subscribed and left kudos. Seeing all the positive feedback from this story definitely brightened my days. However I will not be continuing with this story.  
It has been nearly a year since I updated, and looking back and rereading this I don't like what I wrote, and I don't like the direction it was headed.  
I have started several stories since then and will most likely be posting one of them in the future, along with a few one-shots.  
I'm sorry if this makes you sad, but please do not be sad for long.  
Stay alive. :)  
-Ben

**Author's Note:**

> I know that asexual frank isn't really a character you see that often, but I was struck with an idea and I stuck by it. I'll update soon, I think, I already have the first few chapters written. Let me know what you think!  
> ~Al


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